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autophobia_by_michellecter_dacjocw-fullview

Busy, busy,
always busy.

Never here, but always there.
Tiny pixels, many squares,
hand-held sinkholes,
whose place I share.

Busy, busy,
always busy.

You might look, but you never see,
what truly matters.
It’s always them and rarely me,
constant chatter – low energy.

Busy, busy,
always busy.

Is it for you? Is it for me?
For them or us?
Uncertainty.
Doesn’t matter,
the price to pay,
in frequency.
Connection lost,
and at what cost?!

Busy, busy,
always busy.

Always striving, but never arriving,
so spend your time wisely,
and notice precisely,
the times you are smiling.

For what’s gone is gone,
and won’t return.
To be grateful for each moment,
is one of the greatest lessons to learn.

Busy busy,
always busy.
Now where does it leave you?
And where does it lead me?

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Categories: PoetryTags: , , , , ,

2 comments

  1. “Now where does it leave you?
    And where does it lead me?”

    The end is so strikingly good!

    Liked by 1 person

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